Valhalla
by duffie83
Summary: Sookie faces a startling new destiny.  Set before Dead and Gone, book and show spoilers, departs canon.  Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The characters Sookie Stackhouse, Adele Stackhouse, Jason Stackhouse, Arlene Fowler, and Eric Northman were created by Charlaine Harris. They are used without permission, but in the spirit of admiration and respect. No infringement of copyright is intended and no profit was made.**

**~ Set sometime before ****Dead and Gone**

I walked in to Gran's kitchen, bone weary and dead tired as she used to say. To me it would always be her kitchen, filled with homey goodness. It was a place to get knees bandaged, help lattice a peach pie, and drink sweet tea. A room to hear Gran's lighthearted gossip with the other church ladies over the phone, even though they'd all just seen each other that morning. Anything else that had occurred here couldn't outweigh the happy times. There was comfort in that. Others couldn't understand it, even Jason, but it worked for me and I was the one who lived here.

It has been one of those days, some sort of spring fever making the customers cranky. Just like in any food service job, there's dry spells and there's rushes, usually off and on throughout the day. Today was all rush. Between the new cook in the kitchen screwing up orders and Arlene all twitterpated with thoughts of her current man, it left me to pull us through. Though I about lost it when the second truck driver of the day grabbed my ass, I managed to avoid a total meltdown. His draught beer wasn't so lucky, especially since I gave it a quick zap in the microwave. Really, you'd think people would be smarter than to try to manhandle their food handlers. Sam was in Baton Rouge, taking care of some business or other, but he'd be happy with the day's take. I was just happy to be done and home.

Pulling out my ponytail and massaging my aching scalp, I noticed in my rush to get to work I hadn't ripped off yesterday's Word of the Day.

Hells bells, but like they say better late…as I tore away **bucolic** to reveal **Valhalla** I felt his presence. Or maybe better to say I felt the void of his presence. I'd rescinded his invitation a while back, but we'd mended fences since then. That's not to say we still didn't have a passel of complications, among them our blood bond, his memory loss, and my resolution to stay out of the Supe world.

My exhaustion was still present, but now shoved behind a quickened heartbeat and the unfortunate sensation of being off balanced. _Damn you Eric._ Probably for the best that he wasn't a mind reader, even if he could sense my discomfort through our connection.

From behind me and more than a foot above he read the text aloud, but his perfect standard English had bled into such accented tones that it was nearly incomprehensible:

**Valhalla~ 1:the great hall in Norse mythology where the souls of heroes slain in battle are received *2: a place of honor, glory, or happiness: heaven **

I turned around and looked up, usually mischievous blue eyes were stormy. Our gazes locked, there was a haunted intensity in him I had never seen before. He was projecting a deep need through our bond, not for blood or sex, but for comfort. Puzzled and concerned, I reached up with both hands to cup his face. As my fingertips and palms registered the pleasant coolness of his skin, my senses were transported from Gran's worn kitchen to somewhere other.

_A night sky overhead, he stood in a grassy clearing heavily surrounded by aspen and birch trees. A sliver of moon accompanied the stars to provide light, not that he needed it with his heightened senses, but it didn't matter anyway since he stared without truly seeing. His mind was over a hundred years in the past. A burial mound in the distance, now eroded by weather and covered with overgrowth the center of his thoughts… _

I fought the vision, much like when I block or ignore patrons' thoughts at the bar. I came back to myself a little. Damn vampire shit, this had never happened to me before, it just wasn't the way my ability worked.

I wasn't reading his mind… it went beyond that. I was experiencing one of his memories, feeling his emotions and understanding thoughts in a language long passed.

And then I fell back into it.

"_My blood rests in this field," he thought. _

_During the early years after his turning he had been ruled by bloodlust, killed scores of hapless villagers and unobservant travelers. Now, finally with some control over his appetites and freedom from his sire, he'd made his way back to this site. _

_He'd placed his wife Aude just there, clothed in an intricately embroidered tunic. A gold brooch at one breast, their stillborn child at the other. They lay next to two earlier children, both lost within hours of birth. His woman had never fought in a battle, but she'd waged her wars. Surly the gods would have seen her fierce warrior spirit and let her and the babes into Valhalla. _

_And a short distance away lay his nephew Egil. At twelve he'd been considered a man, but had fallen in his first battle to the enemy's long bow. Only weaklings would use such cowardly weapons. Even as he suffered a mortal arrow he managed to kill one of them with his two handed axe, cutting through the man's chainmail and into flesh. His soul must also rest in the great halls. _

_He and Aude had three living children, and they had children of their own. From time to time in his wanderings he has encountered those of his blood, he can sense them. They smell unique among the sea of humanity. He's started to keep track of some of them, their lives and deaths._

_All that he's known has passed, and yet he continues on unchanged and in the shadows. A great heaviness descends upon his heart as he kneels by his woman's grave. Is this to be his existence? _

My hands dropped away, I stood staring down, no longer able to make eye contact. The big clodhoppers he called feet were in nearly the spot where Gran's blood had pooled, were she'd fought and died alone, essentially because of my association with the likes of his kind.

In that moment I hated him, loved him, pitied him all wadded up in one big ball settling low in my belly. Not knowing what else to do, I wrapped my arms around his torso and placed my head on his chest. After a minute he dropped his head to rest on top of mine, his great arms emcompassing me.

We stood like that awhile, our identically blonde heads nestled together. Finally he pulled away, eyes once again clear of thunder clouds, merry and up to trouble. Of course he'd recover that quickly, vampires were nothing if not resilient. He didn't know what I'd experienced, and it was gonna stay that way.

"Thank you my lover, I just had a moment there." A pause and then, "I wanted to check in since the shifter is out of town. It is dangerous out here for you alone."

His words brought a familiar resentment, known to any single adult woman with interfering men in her life, supernatural or otherwise. And just like that we slipped into established roles, though something had irrevocablly shifted.

**A/N~ So I own a Word of the Day calendar, bought with fond thoughts of Sookie. Valhalla really was a recent word. Even though I've never written for this genre, tribute to Eric had to be paid. : ) **


	2. Chapter 2

Eric and I remained facing each other, as usual, our unresolved issues heavy between us. He reached down and placed a cool kiss on my heated forehead.

"I must go now…"

He was interrupted by a rapping at my screen door. From the other side I heard perhaps the most well known voice in the world drawl, "Miss Sookie, ya alright in there?" Of course, tonight of all nights Bubba would drop by on patrol, probably sent by my no account ex Bill. I couldn't seem to catch a break from all of these meddling men. My mind tried to segway into an exploration of why these guys were in my life in the first place, just what was it about me and my choices that resulted in their presence, but I put a mental roadblock up real quick. Now was not the time for any soul shattering realizations. I just wanted these two gone and to go spend some quality time with my pillow.

"Everything's fine Bubba, why don't y'all head out together?"

Bubba stepped into the kitchen. He was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that said **FEMA Evacuation Plan: Run Bitch, Run**! Whoever had dressed him for the night was expressing a commonly held sentiment 'round these parts. Hurricane Katrina had done a doozy on our state, and a lot of hard feelings remained from both the living and undead citizens about how the local and federal governments had responded to the situation.

Bubba, bless his heart, is special and suffers from the vampire equivalent of a birth defect. At his turning he'd been doped up and already more dead than alive. But whoever his sire was, nobody has yet claimed the dubious honor, couldn't bare to see "The King" pass from this world. The result was a mentally impaired but generally good-natured vampire with a taste for the blood of small critters. Though come to think of it, his food preferences as a human had ran toward grilled peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Maybe there are certain things people are hardwired for that remain even after turning, like unusual culinary inclinations.

Bubba's face was doing the proverbial sad puppy dog look at my quick dismissal. He attempted to step around me into the living room, saying "How 'bout I do a quick walk through just to make sure everything's good?" I reached up and grabbed his shoulder, intending to tell him it wasn't necessary, that surely Eric would have sensed an intruder, but dammit, _it _happened again.

_He lay sprawled on the California king size bed, the black silk sheets clingy to his bloated sweaty body. On the nightstand was a stack of newspapers and tabloids. His bodyguard had tried to dissuade him when he'd requested them, but he had to know what was being said. The whole damn world was out to get him, and the jumble of words he just read proved it._

_One journalist had said, "Elvis Presley has become a grotesque caricature of his sleek energetic former self." _Well fuck you, I don't see you packing stadiums with sold out crowds.

_But the most painful jab had come from the full page color photograph of Priscilla and him. __Him__ was interchangeable, it was any man not himself. She was the mother of his child, the woman he'd courted for over seven years before finally calling her wife. She still had his heart, even four years after their divorce. It didn't really matter that they'd both been unfaithful during their marriage, that if he really thought about it, they'd been deeply unhappy during their last years together. Somehow, if he could get her back, maybe the world would right itself again. It was there in her name, Priscilla Beaulieu. So much like Beulah Land in that old gospel song he grew up hearing, a place of comfort and rest. _Please Lord, let me find peace._ But his heart felt empty, and he glanced to the bottle of Demerol that also rested on the nightstand. _

I dropped my hand from Bubba's shoulder. I wasn't sure how long I'd been standing there. My trancelike state had made Bubba pause in his explorations, and Eric was giving me a hard stare.

Seriously, what in the name of everything holy was going on? Though my experience with Eric minutes before shook me to the core, somehow I thought it could be explained away by our blood bond. But I shared nothing with Bubba. Glancing at his confused face, I also knew he hadn't just been thinking about his human life. My ability revealed current thoughts as they passed through people's minds, living people that is, not the undead. Sure, I'd had a peek or two into Eric's thoughts before, but again, we're bonded. Earlier, I knew he'd been thinking about his wife and children, remembering. I read his thoughts just as I would anyone's, but it had been more intense, as if I was actually living it. Now with Bubba, I got the feeling that his simple mind was haunted by the complex and tragic past of his human life. I spared him a moment of pity, it must be quite confusing to experience the emotions evoked by such images with his lack of ability to understand. Just bouts of despair, anger, and paranoia without the capacity to analyze and try to work it out. No wonder he didn't like reminders of his former existence.

Then my own mind reached its limit. I needed time alone to think and I was dead on my feet. Now this shit was gonna keep me up all night, the trying to figure out why and how.

"Out, now, both of you!" They knew me well enough to figure out I meant business, especially Eric since I'd rescinded his invitation a time or two before. They skedaddled.


	3. Chapter 3

Surprisingly enough, once I finally made it to my room I slept like the dead. I awoke to birds chirping, a woodpecker giving one of my trees hell, and sunshine splayed across me as I lay tangled in my old quilt. Though I figured I only had about four hours of sleep, I felt rested and ready to tackle the day. I allowed myself a brief moment to meditate, pushing back thoughts of the previous night's events, and instead thought about yellow throated warblers. Yup, pretty sure that's what those feathery buggers outside my window were. For a while there one of Gran's little hobbies had been bird watching, and it just so happens that Louisiana has 46 of the 53 types of warblers. It was an honor no other state could claim, who knew, and it made us a mecca for bird watchers.

I let out a heartfelt sigh. So maybe I didn't go to college, and sometimes folks are prone to equate my white blonde hair and curvaceousness with a low IQ, but I know what avoidance is thank you very much.

And then my mind was on my out of whack ability, a certain thousand year old Viking vampire who'd once had an existential crisis, and the conundrum that was Bubba.

Okay, I needed to compartmentalize, a skill I've honed over time to maintain my sanity. It's not easy to take a table full of orders, all of the hold this and add that's, while simultaneously getting bombarded with hostile thoughts between patrons. It's surprising how many families go out to dinner while they're angry at each other… husbands at wives, mothers at children, teenagers at everyone. And if I had a dollar for every time I heard a person entertain an act of violence against a loved one I sure wouldn't be scraping by on tips the way I do, no siree.

'Course, there's the good stuff too. Some folks' thoughts radiate peace. One of our regulars spends a good bit of time thinking of his daughter, grown and living in California. She doesn't make it home often, travel's too expensive, but she keeps him updated on her career and new little family. Each month she sends him a card with pictures of the baby. Little guy has a tooth now, and her job as a nurse's assistant lets her pay the bills. Sure makes him proud, he feels like he's done right by her…and it's enough, he's content. I always make sure he gets an extra big piece of lemon meringue pie, a silent thanks for unknowingly bringing some sunshine into my life.

Good or bad thoughts aside, thankfully for the most part these days I can usually block most of it out. It took me a fair amount of years, years filled with me nearly losing my mind and getting a reputation as 'that crazy Stackhouse girl', but I'd learned to harness my ability to a certain extent. Which is why last night nearly knocked me off my rocker.

I was just flat out confused. As it was happening and right after it didn't seem like I was reading Eric's mind, I felt like I was living one of his experiences. But maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was a vampire. They have accelerated everything, from healing to movement and beyond, so why not thoughts on steroids too? Bill had once told me that his human memories were like grainy black and white photos while his vampire memories were HD quality. I had to look up HD, darn Bill and his techie language, though at the time I'd found his computer nerdiness very sexy and endearing. 'Course that was before his vampire lineage software led to him hooking back up with his ho she-devil sire and me nearly getting killed in the process…but I'm sidetracking myself.

Eric's memories had been especially vivid to me because of our bond. And Bubba hadn't been actively remembering, but the memories were there floating around in his head, kinda like tadpoles in a pond coming up for air. So I had read both of their minds, alright, it's not the first time. No reason to panic. I ignored the niggling voice from the darker regions of my mind telling me that was bullshit, 'cause before it had only been small glimpses not full on mental assaults.

Alrighty, maybe some more avoidance was in order. I didn't have to be to Merlottes until the late shift, and those rays of sunshine were calling my name. I dug out my bathing suit, stopped in the kitchen for a big glass of sweet tea, and headed out to work on my tan.

I'd hired Jason to do some yard work, which unsurprisingly he'd only half finished, but because of him my radio was still on classic rock instead of country. But Van Morrison was crooning Into the Mystic, an old favorite, so I left it be.

I stretched out on my old lawn chair, sunglasses firmly in place, singing along with the soulful lyrics. The day's warmth and wholesome brightness helped melt away lingering doubts and fears. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…

A voice akin to tinkling bells said, "Good lord Sookie, promise me you'll never audition for American Idol."

Startled, I quickly sat up while pulling my sunglasses off. Standing before me was my tall gorgeous friend Claudine.

Men literally stopped in their tracks after catching a glimpse of her wavy dark hair and exotic slanted eyes, I'd seen it happen. But to me the best part about her was her heart, you'd be hard pressed to find a more well intentioned person. Oh yeah, and she's a fairy. Fey that is, not any other connotation the word has taken on.

She stretched down to give me one of her world famous hugs, but stopped at my screech of panic and the wall I'd created with my flattened palms.

"NO, wait!" That's all I needed, to find out what sort of baggage a centuries old fairy carries around. Who knows, maybe it's true that a fairy dies every time somebody expresses disbelief. Either way, I didn't want to explore any more supe minds for a long, long time, in fact never would be alright with me.

Claudine maintained her cool, and there was a knowing look in her gaze I found a tad suspicious. "You won't read anything from me Sookie."

Great, she was gonna pull one of those omniscient moments. I sighed in resignation and said, "What do you know?"

"You've experienced key moments from two vampires' lives. It's why I'm here, to help you understand what this means for you."

"Means for me!" I wasn't proud that my voice resembled nails on chalkboard, but was beyond caring. "Why does it have to mean anything for me?"

An unfathomable look in those dark eyes. Van Morrison's final guitar chords were fading, and I wondered if he'd written Brown Eyed Girl for her. Focus Stackhouse.

"Well Sookie, you've been chosen to ascend. One day you will be an angel."


	4. Chapter 4

Claudine plopped down in the grass next to my lawn chair. I focused on taking deep breaths, fighting the urge to scream like a banshee. Great, I bet banshees were real too, just like every other fricken supernatural creature.

I guess I knew angels existed, Claudine had once told me she was working her way up the hierarchy to become one. It was a concept I'd deliberately avoided giving much thought to since it struck me as somewhat blasphemous. I liked Claudine a lot, and who was I, Sookie Stackhouse, waitress and telepath extraordinaire, to judge?

The religious part of me instilled by Gran brought forth Sunday school images of Gabriel and the archangel Michael. Biblically angels weren't cuddly chubby babies. Some were fearsome warriors of God, fighting great battles in end times. Others were observers and protectors, intervening to help God's chosen.

A lesson on cherubim had especially frightened me as a little girl. The thought that a four faced creature existed, that two of those faces were that of a lion and ox, had been almost more than my child's mind could handle. Top it off with the notion that these beings were enflamed, like walking torches, and I'd had to crawl into bed with Gran for a few nights. _That_ was what was watching over us?

Claudine stretched out beside me in all of her leggy glory, patiently giving me a bit of processing time. It was much appreciated, but not dropping a bombshell in the first place would have been better.

I was as ready as I was ever gonna be. "Alright, explain."

Deep brown eyes flecked with gold skittered my way in quick assessment before turning back to stare into azure sky. Again, I'd never formally studied psychology, but I knew her posturing and placement were deliberate. She had heavy news to deliver, and she wanted to do it without me feeling like my every reaction was being analyzed. I was grateful, but starting to get impatient.

Finally, "It's like this Sookie. Human beings have the potential to change into supernatural creatures, like vampires or Weres…but never angels. Only those born with magic already in their veins can become angels, and even that is pretty rare. Someone can transcend through dedicated effort, but it takes a great deal of time and focus. But there are also those who are not trying but are chosen." A pause here, and another glance from her.

I noticed now her eyes held a wistful quality, and I felt a stab of sympathy and something else that might have been guilt. I didn't want this, no way, no how, no sir. But she did, she had for a long time, and to a fairy that meant a whole heap of years. It brought to mind a baby shower I'd attended the week before.

A gal I'd grown up with was having her second, and while ripping open pastel wrapped packages had jokingly talked about getting her tubes tied. "No more buns from this oven." The women had all laughed, but the gal's cousin wore a plastic smile and had been broadcasting too loud for me to tune her out. _You're so, so blessed. How can you be so blasé?_ Other thoughts from the woman's mind revealed that she and her husband had been trying for a little one for five years with no luck.

Now here I was, the recipient of what Claudine felt to be the ultimate gift, unappreciative and angry. Okay, I can do this better. I owe it to her as a friend to have an open mind.

Claudine's full lips were tilted up slightly in a gentle smile. "See Sookie, that right there, that's why you're chosen."

I hadn't done anything, and I realized with a start that she'd read my mind. I hadn't known she could do that, but why the hell not?

"All fairies are telepathic to some extent, at least among each other. Your human blood must be the reason you can't read me, but your fairy blood is what gives you your gift. Your ability to read humans is quite extraordinary, though not unheard of. There have been others before, but they weren't chosen. Sookie, it's your ability combined with your compassion. You've been in people's darkest thoughts, you know just how bad they can be. Yet you still show kindness, you do what you can to help."

An utter of protest from me, but she cut me off, continuing. "Sookie, with your gift there's no reason for you to struggle financially the way you do, even aside from working for the vampires or weres. Others before you have used it to take advantage, to accumulate wealth by preying on people. There are a million ways you could've abused it, account numbers running through people's minds, locations of keys and hidden valuables. You've never done it, not once."

I couldn't deny it, though there'd been a time or two when a bill had nearly done me in that I'd thought about a road trip to Vegas. I don't know much about poker, but I'm a hard worker and could learn. Surely it's not stealing if it's from some big casino that exploits people everyday? But I knew it was wrong and had made do with what I'd had. Now my clean slate was coming back to bite me in the ass.

"Claudine, I kinda get what you're saying. But I don't wanna transcend or change or whatever. I just wanna be me."

"Sweetie, it's already happening. Your experiences with Eric and Bubba are just the beginning. New powers will manifest now, quicker and quicker. Physically there will be changes as well…your skin, your voice, your hair. You'll still look like you, but angelic you. And you'll become immortal."

This was the straw that broke the camel's back. A thought that spawned another. Good lord, was I gonna grow wings out of my back?

"Stop, just stop. I need to know a few things, then I need you to leave." Before I could continue she cut me off again, having already delved into my mind, and I realized I'd probably been doing something similar to others my whole life.

"I know, alright Sook, here it is then I'll leave. Yes, there is a God and you've been chosen by Him, though some supes still swear He's really a she. There are still many unknowns, even among the more ancient of our kind. Your job will be to guide others, though we'll know more about the specifics of your job as your powers develop."

A lengthy pause, and then "Yes, it does mean leaving your life here behind and the ones you love."

Sometimes we have moments where we discover truths about ourselves, internal realities we weren't willing to acknowledge before. At Claudine's soft words my mind did not go to Jason or Tara, though I loved them both dearly, but to Eric. And as I felt my chest constrict at the thought of a future without him, I felt his awareness, his knowledge of my distress. Somewhere miles away in Shreveport, even as I lay out here in the sun's bright rays, he lay encased in shadows, those blue blue eyes of his open.

**A/N**

**~ For those interested, my angel references come from Ezekiel 1:1-28, Hebrews 1:14 and Revelation 12:7.**

**~ Thanks to those who have reviewed, alerted, pm-ed and/or favorited…you're the reason this is going beyond a one-shot (for better or worse). :) **


	5. Chapter 5

I had the early-evening-to-late shift, so dusk found me puttering down Hummingbird Road wondering how Sam would feel if I called in for a mental health day. Nope, better not hazard it. It wasn't that I thought he'd say no, genial Sam would probably encourage me to get some rest, but he was still out of town and it seemed unfair to everyone involved to entrust Arlene to the task of running the bar on a Friday night. A little sigh from me, but I was still able to appreciate the shadowy outlines of tightly packed pines against the burnt orange and ruddy reds of the sunset. Call me a simple girl, but sometimes it's the small things in life that get you through.

Since my eyes were on the fading colors, I about didn't see him in time and nearly ran him over. Lucky for him I never drove fast on the parish roads, too many critters and fallen trees and such. Actually, come to think of it, probably more lucky for me and my little clunker. I banished the image of twisted metal wrapped around six feet plus of unharmed Viking perfection. _That's right Sook, any run-ins with him are gonna leave you hurt and bleeding with him just fine._ But the butterflies in my stomach didn't seem to be paying much attention, their wings fluttering in relief and happiness at the sight of him.

I brought the car to a stop in the road, but left the headlights on. Worries of other vehicles didn't trouble me, since it was rare to encounter them out here. I unbuckled, but remained sitting behind the wheel. He could damn well come to me.

For the second time in my life I watched Eric traverse Hummingbird Road. The first time he'd been stripped down, literally and otherwise. He'd pissed off a powerful witch and had been cursed because of it. I'd found him out here, wandering nearly naked with no memory of who he was. After my little epiphany this morning I knew that's when it happened. I had fallen in love with Eric then, with who he was beneath the veneer of Vampire Sheriff, those few days I'd taken care of him until his memory returned. I couldn't pretend otherwise anymore. The anger I was feeling towards him was defensive, but perhaps not earned this time around.

The kicker of it all was the wording of the curse. He'd been sentenced to run to his heart's desire, but to never actually realize it because of the memory loss. And he'd come to me.

As I'd been expecting Eric to come to the driver's side and yank me out, I was surprised when he opened the passenger door and sat down. Belatedly I realized his Corvette was nowhere in sight, which meant he'd flown. Urgent business then.

I prepared myself for news of more vampire wars or were skirmishes, but was sidetracked by the sight of his fully extended fangs.

I knew what that meant. But dammit, I'd just figured out some pretty important stuff and we needed to talk. Both of us were just to dang stubborn and this had gone on long enough.

"Eric, this morning…" But he was already reaching for me, those great big hands of his gently pulling my head close to his and he was leaning down.

"I know lover, I know. Gods, I've been waiting hours to come to you." Then his face was next to mine, our noses nearly bumping before he adjusted with a slight tilt, then a pause. He studied me, his cool hands entangled around my head as my warm and increasingly faster breaths fluttered his hair, the only movement from him as he'd gone to that utterly still vampiric state.

Finally his lips began to descend the remaining inches.

A few frantic thoughts skittered around my head. Shouldn't I be protesting right now, getting us on track to resolving issues? TCB as Bubba would have said in another life. But we'd been playing emotional hide and seek for months, what was a couple more minutes?

Then rational thought ceased.

He nudged my lips apart with his, but didn't kiss me fully. Instead he nibbled and sucked my lower lip, and I could feel the sharp length of his fangs though they didn't cut me. After a minute and an eternity his tongue slipped out to tease a little. He traced my swollen lip, then traveled the line of my jaw before settling on the soft spot beneath. My quickened pulse was right beneath his lips, and I felt him smile before he moved to my earlobe.

My hands reached up, fingers splayed through long blond hair, the edges frayed since they'd been hacked off shoulder length a thousand years ago by his bronze hunting knife. He was perfect just as he was.

I was just using my grip to yank his lips back to mine when a loud rapping at my window scared the bejesus out of me. Eric actually growled, and I was mortified to see a uniformed Andy Bellefleur on the other side. _Oh Lord, just take me now._ But then I remembered the events of the last twenty-four hours and quickly took it back.

I sat up and rolled down my window, but felt a breeze. Glancing down I saw several buttons on my Merlotte shirt were open. When had that happened? I spared Eric a quick glare.

"Well, well, well. Sookie Stackhouse. Now here I was expecting some high school kids." There was a malicious gleam in Andy's eyes, and even shielding I could pick up far too much satisfaction from his thoughts.

I fought back a sudden urge to laugh as it occurred to me here I was a grown woman caught red-handed, or red-lipped as the case may be, doing something I'd never done as a teenager. As a kid others my age had always been frightened of me, I was 'that crazy Stackhouse girl.' None of the boys asked me out, even the few who'd wanted to. Even if they weren't afraid of me exactly, they'd feared the social stigma an association with me would bring. I felt a sense of fulfillment at finally being able to steam up some windows, parked on an isolated country road. Well, maybe not isolated enough.

"Sookie, are you even listening to me?" No, I hadn't been.

"I'm sorry Andy, could you say it again?"

"Detective Bellefleur, Sookie, detective. When this here uniform goes on I should get the respect that comes along with it!" _Shit Sook, don't piss him off._

I was saved from further response by Eric, who leaned over me and looked Andy straight in the eyes. "You will forget that you have seen the two of us here today. You will get back into your squad car and drive back into town." And he did.

We sat in a now tense silence, watching until Andy's tail lights disappeared around a bend. Our sensual fog lifted, we were both experiencing other feelings through our bond, namely my intense anxiety.

"Lover, what is it. Does the shifter give you problems, Bill, or your brother?"

I wish it were that simple. "No Eric, it's not about anybody but me. I'm giving me problems."

Though his expression revealed nothing, I felt both puzzlement and impatience.

"Eric, I found out I'm going to become an angel."

Louisiana is at the edge of Tornado Alley, but we have more hills than the Plains States. They get to see what's coming at them, maybe have time to prepare. Here, folks are hit with one hell of a mean surprise. That's how I felt now. I didn't know how Eric was gonna react, but I sure hadn't thought it would be with great guffaws of laughter.


	6. Chapter 6

It doesn't take a mind reader to know how most folks respond to being laughed at, and I was no exception. But I was temporarily distracted from my wrath at the sight of bright crimson streaking down Eric's cheeks. Huh, I'd never seen a vamp cry from laughter.

Setting my fascination aside, I laid into Eric, but not in the way I'd been planning just a scant few minutes ago.

"What the hell's the matter with you? Do you even get what I just said?"

This just brought on another round of sniggers, not as boisterous as his earlier outburst, but still enough that he had to take in a few gulps of air. Good, I hoped my frustration was emitting a bitter smell.

I was moving from angry to flat out hurt. I'd stood by Eric through a lot of crap, supernatural and otherwise. I'd literally ran into a burning building to save him. Maybe his feelings for me were still ambiguous, but now I knew I loved him. I wanted his support, some answers, and maybe a bit of reassurance.

Our bond seemed to transmit this well enough, and he recovered to wipe his face and then pull me to him. My head pressed to his chest, a traitorous voice in my head wished for the steady soothing rhythm of a heartbeat. I told it to hush and was able to enjoy being held.

We remained quietly locked in an embrace, my anger and pain soothed some as he simultaneously sent waves of comfort through our connection and gently rubbed one of my shoulders. Lots of times in the past I would have been pissed that he was manipulating my emotions, but I'd had a rough day or two and was willing to accept it.

"Lover, I've lived for a millennium. I've witnessed plagues destroy entire cities and then centuries later scientists eradicating diseases, with only a few samples remaining in petri dishes. Some call it progress, some say it's only through divine intervention that such marvels have come about. I've also seen wars fought with hot tar and flaming arrows, an excruciating way to die I've been told. Now there are weapons that can vaporize a man where he stands, but so quickly that surely there's no pain, probably even no awareness that it's happening. Is that progress?"

I'd lifted my head and was staring into those blue eyes. It was one of the longest speeches I'd heard from Eric, and definitely the most serious. His outward projections of authority, mirth, and raw sexuality weren't a façade, they were true parts of who he was. But beneath that was a philosopher, someone who'd pondered his existence, his heartaches, and had decided to move on and focus on the now.

He continued, "Sookie, do you think there's some omniscient being out there who sees us, who guides humanity? Do you really believe in angels, in an invisible army watching over it all?"

I could hear the doubt and skepticism in his voice and my heart broke for him as I realized he lived his long life without the comfort of knowing there was a god. I was able to look into his eyes, and it didn't matter who'd lived the longest or experienced the most, I knew he was wrong. Deep in my gut, in the place where head or heart don't matter so much, I instinctively felt the presence of a higher power, not just of a god but _the_ God. Gran and I had talked about it once. Together we'd reasoned that it was a lot like babies having belly buttons, proof of a severed bond to their mother. People also have a little scar on their souls to show their separation from God, but that little scar never completely heals, it can twinge or ache, making people yearn for Him. Gran said this was the Holy Spirit at work. Though logic doesn't usually apply to such topics, the line of thought felt right to me, and as an adult it still did.

"Look Eric, I just don't understand, I really don't get it. How do you not believe?" Before he could speak again I continued. "I mean, vamps will tell you that the first Undead was Cain, that he was cursed for murdering his brother."

"Lover, that is the mythology of vampires, but it doesn't make it true. Just like Cortes' pale skin didn't make him the Aztecs' returning god, people will believe something, even to their own detriment, if it fits into their cultural framework."

I was incredulous. "Are you saying believing in God and angels is harmful to people?"

"No, I'm saying people want explanations for things. But they have expectations about just what those explanations should be, and they get angry or afraid if they find answers that don't fit into their neat little boxes. But enough of this meandering. Tell me exactly what the fairy shared with you."

I hadn't mentioned Claudine, but knew he could smell her on me. Fairies are especially delectable to vamps, sorta like a triple fudge brownie to a chocoholic. No wonder he'd mauled me when he got into the car.

"She said I've been chosen to become an angel, that it's partly due to my fairy blood and partly to the choices I've made in life."

Eric snorted, "So how does a romantic entanglement with a descendant of Cain qualify you for angelhood?" Now he was back to pissing me off, and I wasn't done with our previous topic.

My voice was sharp as I asked, "You're a supernatural being, they're fairies, shape-shifters, and Weres. How can somebody that's lived ten centuries not believe in a higher power of some sort?"

His tone shifted from patronizing to simply sad and tired. "I did Sookie, once. As a human I made sacrifices to Odin and even after turning, for more than a century, I clung to those beliefs." My mind revisited last night's experience, the glimpse into Eric's life and the deaths of his family members. Familiar with loss myself, first my parents and then Gran, I could understand his perspective. Grief is sort of a catch-all term for a cache of other emotions…pain, anger, denial, utter sadness…until you get to the point where you're so numb you just have to do something. Most people recover, life goes on and all that, blah blah. But they're not the same. Some people gain faith, some lose it.

I had to believe there was a point to the cycle of life and death, and I wished Eric could as well. I wasn't the best Christian in the world, and the notion that I'd somehow earned my way into being an angel went against a lot of ingrained beliefs, but at least I had my faith to give me strength.

He continued, "People use the word 'supernatural' but really it's just a phrase for creatures or events outside of what most can currently understand. It's like trying to explain antibiotics or nuclear warfare to a medieval peasant, it's easier to just ascribe certain things to _other_."

We're both so stubborn, I knew the conversation wouldn't end productively as you can't talk someone into believing and if you're a true believer nobody can talk you out of it.

I sighed deeply, and if Eric had been a breather he probably would've as well. I wasn't ready to talk with him about developing powers, though I knew he would want a more detailed explanation of Claudine's visit.

Instead of feeling relieved at having shared my burden, I was left with more worry. If Eric, who'd been around the block, hell, who'd been around when the cement for the block was poured, didn't know about angels and transcension, then I was in trouble. I was still facing a great unknown without any more insight. Seems like I'd need to contact Claudine to get more answers, though I couldn't help but feel she was biased about the whole thing.

"I've got to head out, I was supposed to be at the bar twenty minutes ago."

He knew not to push anymore, and leaned down for a gentle brushing of lips. "Alright lover, but please relax. I believe a famous American author said: _There is only now_."

Now it was my turn to snort with amusement, "Yeah, it was Hemingway, and he committed suicide."

"Sookie, you have unexpected depths." What I had was a library card, thank you very much. But I wasn't really offended since I knew Eric was one of the few who didn't underestimate me.

He flew off into the night and I continued on my way to work.


	7. Chapter 7

My worn tires crunched the gravel of Merlotte's parking lot, and I noticed with a detached resignation it was nearly full. Some nights this might have left me elated, since more customers equal more tips. Other times the thought of the impending footwork would make me a little tired, coupled with a slight depression at the notion that I could very well being doing this same job at fifty. Ah heck, at least I had a job.

As I entered the side service door I made a conscious effort to pull it together. I plastered a "fake it 'til you make it" smile on my face, courtesy of Arlene's Waitressing 101 advice back when I was first hired. She'd said a smiling waitress was a better tipped waitress, and she was absolutely right. Unfortunately the philosophy hadn't served her as well in matrimony. In the years I'd know her she'd maintained that beautiful counterfeit grin right through four husbands and ensuing divorces. Bless her heart though, lately she'd been thinking maybe the fifth time's a charm.

I quickly fell into routine. Tossing a few "evenin's" over my shoulder at some of the regulars, I headed to Sam's office to stash my purse before grabbing an order pad and starting my section. We're pretty informal 'round here, we don't have an acting host, so people seat themselves. A quick scan revealed which tables needed taken care of, and I dove right in.

Across the room Arlene acknowledged my presence with a grateful nod, and I sent a genuine smile her way. Maybe sometimes the difficulties of her personal life overwhelmed her- hey, I could relate- but for the most part she was a hard worker and I counted her a friend.

It felt good to move, to have a series of tasks and to rapidly complete them. A few people might look down on my kind of job, but there was satisfaction to be found here.

I carried baskets of fried pickles and chicken strips to tables, brought some crayons to a table with youngin's. Nobody batted an eye at them being in our bar at night, Bon Temps didn't exactly have a lot of sit down restaurants to choose from.

I reached Maxine Fortenberry's table, her grown son Hoyt was with her. Though I knew exactly what she'd order, 'cause it was what she always ordered, she would still insist on a menu and spend a good bit of my time seeming to deliberate. If I walked away she would immediately call me back, indignant that now that she was ready I wasn't there. Hoyt looked on, sheepishly embarrassed but meek. He was ready, but he would wait for his mother since she'd drilled it into his gentle mind that a lady always places her order first. Too bad there weren't any ladies sitting at this table. I sighed and held my peace.

Finally Maxine began rattling off what she wanted. "I'll have a basket of chicken strips, but grilled not breaded, please." She knew our chicken came frozen in prepackaged bags, breaded and ready for the fryer. Cook had gotten good at simply slicing off the sides and placing them on the grill along the cooking burgers. The first time or two it had been a pain in the butt, but now it was routine and not as much of a hindrance as Maxine hoped. The final product was rectangular chicken wedges, and in my opinion looked more like they should be manipulatives in a geometry class than something on a dinner plate. But to each their own.

Finally Hoyt started to order, he wanted a steak with home fries, but Maxine cut him off. "Boy, you've got champagne taste with a beer pocketbook. He'll take a hamburger, no fries, he's starting to get a little thick around the middle. Guess your brother hasn't been working him hard enough on that road crew."

I was in the midst of an internal debate over whether I should place his original order, plead incompetence, and adjust their bill…or just bring the damn burger, when I felt a strong broadcaster pushing against my mental barriers.

…_mind reader, only Satan's whore would have such an ability. Was a time the likes of her would have been burned at the stake, maybe drown in a lake…_

When I was a young child, I didn't fully realize just how different I was. I shared things with my parents, back before I'd lost them. _Mommy, is my laugh really your favorite sound in the whole world, even better than your Aretha Franklin record? Dad, what's an investment? That man's gonna take your money and leave town._ The truth of my ability trickled out, folks mostly called me crazy, but beneath that they wondered if I knew all their secrets. I did.

This wasn't the first time I'd picked up condemnation from someone's thoughts, but these were particularly virulent.

I stepped away from the Fortenberry's table, mumbling "I'll have that right out." Searching the room for the source, I finally located him. He was nobody I knew, and that's something in my little town. An unexceptional middle aged man, wearing a flannel shirt and jeans nearly identical to at least ten other men in the bar. His thoughts were anything but ordinary.

…_she's unclean, she's dangerous. Look at her near the children…someone should take care of the abomination…_

Though this line of thought unsettled me deeply, what happened next left me cold.

His stream of consciousness stopped, just stopped, like a person flicking off a radio. I had a few seconds to wonder it he'd died, some freak blood clot or incredibly fast heart attack, but then I felt _something_ filling the space he occupied on my mental radar.

It wasn't human.

I've had glimpses into vampire minds, with the exception of the last twenty-four hours they're cool and almost reptilian, but thoughts are expressed in recognizable images and words. Were minds are more emotion filled, a mesh of warm reds and oranges, and though more challenging it's still possible to get a read on them. This was so completely other…

Across the considerable distance of the room, through the din of dozens of patrons' voices, I saw his lips move and heard the strangely accented word "Sedu."

I didn't know what in the hell that meant, but suddenly my mind was on the children present, just as the man's earlier had been. Not just the children, no, we had a full house. It was a crowd of at least eighty. Eighty people, and I was rapidly and increasingly terrified for their well being. Something in me knew this creature could kill them easily, maybe do worse things than kill them.

It wasn't a conscious choice, but my feet were taking me across the room to him, quickly closing the distance. I reached into the pocket of my apron and pulled out a neatly wrapped roll of silverware. I'd just separated out the butter knife and allowed the rest to tumble to the floor when I reached him.

Standing before him, right hand fisted around the pitiful blade, I stared into eyes that reminded me of a black hole. They sucked out all surrounding light and life, and they were ancient.

A strange vibration was coming from his throat that some part of me recognized as laughter.

"Sedu, I am not one of your undead to be killed by silver. Not that there's any silver in that utensil."

He was amused, toying with me, but I felt like I was standing before a coiled rattlesnake.

He'd lash out, maybe not this second but perhaps the next.

Intuition guided me. I raised the dull knife to my palm, gripped it and slashed down. Blood flowed freely, and I lifted my gaping red hand to his forehead.

The instant my blood touched his oily hot skin I felt the presence of _the other_ evaporate. A metaphysical switch flipped, and the bigot's consciousness returned. Watching my blood drip down his face I had a second to think, _Boy, if he was afraid of me before…_

Confusion had erupted around me, but through the commotion I heard a sweet voice repeatedly calling my name. Good, after my conversation with Eric earlier she was just the person I wanted to see.

Sophisticated, cool, centuries old Claudine stood before me, wearing an expression of….awe?

"Sookie, you've exorcised a shedim."

**A/N**

**~ Seems the further I get into this story, the more books and show are blending in my head. There are elements from each that I prefer to the other, so I'm just gonna go with it, hope that's alright for you purists of either. I figure it's already an AU story, so what the heck. **

**~ I will be out of town for a little while, so I may not update for around two weeks. Thank you to those who have been with the story since the beginning and patiently stuck with it. And again, thanks to all who have reviewed, favorited, or alerted. Those little buggers are strangely addicting. **

**~ For those interested, among other passages, demons are Biblically referenced in Deuteronomy 32:17 and Psalm 106:37. **


	8. Chapter 8

For a half a second the world froze.

Claudine remained beside me, my palm was still pressed to the man's forehead. I watched the crimson stream trickle down onto his cherry red flannel shirt. Nuance. One of my high school English teachers had taught us the word by bringing in a bunch of paint strip samples. "This card contains nuances or shades of the color red. There's rose, scarlet and claret on this strip. They're all red, but each has its own brightness and carries its own mood. Like colors, words have nuance." I briefly wondered where shedim fell on the demon color wheel. Probably right above what the fuck fuschia.

Through my musings the man stayed curiously immobile. His thoughts had returned, and they were a swarm of fear and anger. Again I felt a niggling instinct, compelling me to act… but this time I was in control. I restrained it and took stock of the situation. His name was Robert, known as Bobbie his whole life. Never married, a girlfriend had broken his heart early on. She flitted through his mind at this moment, as what he perceived to be an evil woman's blood dripped down his face. Not an excuse for his nasty judgments by any means, but it went a ways to explaining the misogyny. Also he'd been raised in rural Mississippi with a strict Christian upbringing. Well, I grew up here in Louisiana just as entrenched in the Bible Belt. Gran made sure I knew my scripture. He and I shared a similar background, but our notions of God were night and day.

Ultimately my God was a god of love. His wasn't.

Maybe I could do something about that.

Only two or three seconds had elapsed since the evil thing had vanished. People were behind and around me, talking quickly. A handful were well on their way to inebriation. Sure, some were scared. Most were excited at the hint of scandal, sharks that smelled blood in the water so to speak. I ignored them.

Claudine picked up on my intentions and was silently vigilant at my side. Bloodied palm firmly at his forehead, I raised my unblemished hand to cup his chin.

I'd created a circuit, and I used it to push a positive energy into him. There was no glowing light, no sparks shooting from my fingers. It surged into him nonetheless. I'm not sure how, but I was certain of some things. He would maintain his free will, his faith and the way he thought about and acted towards others would always remain his choice. But I'd helped to clear away some of that intolerance and anger. Maybe it would be enough to set him on a better, happier path.

It at least seemed to mellow him out. My arms dropped down to my sides, and he quickly stood and fumbled in his pocket for his wallet. He dropped a twenty on the table, and even as a telepath I was amazed he had the presence of mind for such things. He quickly but calmly cut through the crowd and exited the bar.

The crowd.

My mind went to that Will Smith movie, Men in Black, and the way they would flash folks with that stick thingy to make them forget stuff. It made me hopeful and I glanced Claudine's way. She had a little grin on her face but shook her head. Well, hell.

My fairy godmother reached into her Gucci bag and pulled out one of those individually wrapped wipies, opened it, and began cleaning me up. I'd had a rough twenty-four hours, I let her. I noticed my wound was no longer gaping, the skin had closed together in a neat pink line. I wondered if the super-healing was from all of the vamp blood I'd ingested these last months, or a manifestation of something else.

Arlene reached us and was stuttering some questions. I cut her off, saying simply "I'm gonna take the rest of the night off. I know that leaves you in a bad spot, and I'm real sorry, but maybe Tara can come in." She nodded, and Claudine and I were already walking past her.

People near us were silent, staring in horrified fascination the way rubberneckers do at car accidents. Those further away were whispering amongst themselves.

I was shielding hard, so I was surprised when Jason intercepted us at the door.

"Sook, what the hell?"

"Jason, not now please. Not here." There's a cosmic tablet somewhere that states siblings shall never listen, and this instance was no exception.

"No, Sookie, you listen here. This has something to do with that bloodsucker, doesn't it?"

I was tired. I was scared. And now I was pissed.

It must of showed in my eyes, 'cause he backed off.

"Well, at least let me take you home."

Claudine walked around me to face him. "That won't be necessary, I'll make sure she gets home. The two of us need to have a little girl talk anyhow."

It's to Jason's credit that he'd ignored her 'til then. He's not the kind to let an opportunity to ogle a pretty lady pass. My brother was really worried about me and I felt some of my anger towards him soften.

He stepped aside and Claudine and I made our exit.

The parking lot was deserted. Of course, since the whole town had been inside to see my little incident.

We reached my car and I shined my little keychain flashlight through the windows into the backseat. I was sufficiently spooked that I needed to be sure of some things. At this point, any little feeling of security was welcome. We climbed into my clunker and I stuck my key in the ignition, thankfully the engine took on the second try.

Once we'd pulled out of the lot and hit Bon Temps' main street, I asked "What's a shedim and why was it at the bar?"

Claudine had surely been expecting these questions, but it still seemed like she was thinking, trying to figure out a place to start. Finally, "Shedim is a Hebrew word. Earlier, you were right in your thoughts, they are demons. Very old spirits, very evil, very powerful."

It's about what I'd been expecting, but I still didn't like hearing it.

She went on, "I believe this one specifically targeted you, like a supernatural assassin. Dark forces want to see you eliminated before you fully come into your power. That man that it took over, he was weak, easily possessed. They can't just jump into anybody, there has to be a crack, a weakness. His was his hatred, it made him vulnerable."

My mind flashed back to the alien otherness behind that man's eyes. It had worn him like a sweatshirt, something to be slipped in and out of. I'd exorcised it, but it wasn't dead.

"Sookie, I don't want you to be discouraged. What you did…I've never seen anything quite like that. Sometimes it can take days to exorcise one of these creatures, and the host is usually much worse for wear. Thankfully they're rare, I've only encountered a couple throughout my whole life."

That gave me something to think about, but I was gonna have to come back to it. I still had more questions. I knew she could hear my thoughts, but I needed to voice them aloud to give them some organization.

"I'm still a target then, I can expect more shedim?" She said nothing, but nodded.

"Me being an angel, it's happening fast, isn't it?" Another nod, she was simply confirming what I already knew.

It's beyond frightening to have no control over your body…your future…your soul. But the guiding instinct from earlier had felt warm, it felt good and right. Maybe I could do this after all and it would be alright. Maybe I could somehow keep Eric and keep my own identity. Keep my sanity. At this point I had to believe that.

Claudine reached over and squeezed my shoulder. I gave her an appreciative smile, "Thanks for being here tonight, not just tonight, but all those other times too."

"Sookie, truly I'm glad I can help. It's an honor for me to get to be here. Not because I think I'm earning my own way up, but because you're my friend. I'm going to stay at your place tonight, I'll make sure you're safe. I think that will let you rest better."

I was raised not to take handouts, tangible or otherwise, but tonight I was grateful.

"That sounds real good, thanks."


	9. Chapter 9

I'd gotten Claudine settled into the guestroom, though she'd insisted it wasn't necessary since she'd be patrolling. Well, according to my deeply ingrained to the bone Southern hospitality, it was a necessity. Guests were always offered a drink, even if they were only standing on the porch for a five minute visit and never crossed the house's threshold. If they were staying for dinner they received choice cuts of meat, and if they were staying overnight they'd find themselves in a clean but humble bed outfitted with an intricately hand stitched quilt and the best sheets in the house. Mystically endowed fairy godmother or not, tradition would hold true By Gawd.

Finally I made it to my own bed, the events of the last twenty-four hours swirling through my exhausted brain. I was physically and emotionally worn out, but I had that kernel of warmth from earlier, a sense of rightness. Sleep would find me, and tomorrow I'd wake and deal with all of this from a fresh perspective. As I reached over to turn off my bedside lamp I felt Eric sending me waves of comfort through the miles separating us. Secure in the knowledge that Claudine was standing guard and thrilling gently at Eric's support, I fell asleep.

_I am a consciousness without corporeal form. Though I have no eyes to see, an image is before me and around me. I'm in a hilly desert, high up looking down into a river valley. Near me scraggly green shrubs break up the monotony of the rocky soil. In the distance white streaks of sunlight bounce off of blue-gray water. Gusts of wind stir up fine sand, creating small cyclones. I have no nose, but the scents of dust and jasmine envelop me. _

_Movement. Landscape whirs by me and I am at the base of the valley. There are people here; a massive structure rises up in front of me. Humans have imposed their will on the brown earth, molding it into large square bricks, baking them in the intense heat of the desert sun, and stacking them to create a palace. _

_The front of the palace is encased in a giant wall of white alabaster that gives off a dull glint in the afternoon light. The outside entranceway is paved with neatly chiseled stones. Both sides of the walkway are ornamented with well tended orchards, and even now a few citizens are caring for the trees. One man turns from his labor as I pass, but I am merely a wisp of wind at his neck, and seeing nothing he resumes his task. _

_I reach two immense doors made from wood not native to this land. No trees of this size grow anywhere near this region. Much of the wood is sheathed in silver and copper, and unlike the alabaster façade, sunlight reflects brightly from their surface. _

_An ivory statue adorns each side of the gate. They are winged bulls with the heads of humans, though they have horns. They have been carved with exquisite detail. Focusing on one, my nonexistent eyes travel from its platform, taking in the cloven hooves, and up the bulky muscular body. Finally I stare into the eternally vigilant face, the eyes are locked on the horizon. Though inert, both figures convey a sense of repressed urgency and power. They are sentinels. _

_Again, movement. The passing whir is much shorter this time, my perspective only altered slightly. I'm higher, facing away from the structure, looking out across the valley. I am in the statue, the statue is me. But I'm not immobile stone; I've become flesh. I turn my massive head to find my mate, and he's already looking at me. I drink in his blue gaze, always blue no matter our incarnate, then I let out a battle cry and take to the air. He's right behind me…then beside me. We are needed this night as enemy tribes approach from the east. We may guard the king's court, but we are not here for that insipid cruel man. Our presence is for those he's enslaved, they are a chosen people and must be protected. The ivory carvings were a convenient embodiment, not the first nor likely the last time we would use them. Regardless of our form, we are protectors. We are Sedu. _

Eric! Eric? I was jolted from the most vivid dream of my life by an engulfing sense of urgency. It was his. He was coming, nearly here but not quite.

Claudine burst into my room seconds after he entered through the window. She was wielding what looked to my mind like a rapier and I asked her, "I thought fairies couldn't handle iron?"

I noticed even after she saw it was him she continued holding the sword ready. "It contains no iron. It's a special alloy forged in the realm of fairy." I was puzzled by her behavior for a half a moment until it hit me she faced great danger from Eric. Vampires have literally gone crazed when standing before pure Fey; fairy scent stirs bloodlust like nothing else.

He didn't seem to notice her. Standing just inside the window, his gaze was firmly locked on me.

"What? Eric, what is it?" My question pulled him from his stillness.

In a blur, he crossed the room and was sitting beside me. Beside me, but not touching at all. Hmm.

Claudine had tensed at his movement, but realizing he wasn't going to harm me or try to turn her into an entrée, she remained in the doorway.

"Lover, tonight…tonight something happened to me." A pause, so I gave him a nod of support. He continued, "I was feeding, just one of the regulars…"

All of this hesitancy was very unlike Eric. I realized he was concerned I might be jealous of the fangbangers that frequented his club and often wound up as dinner. There was a time not too long ago they also provided him other services, but I trusted him enough now not to dwell on such things. Huh, who knew I was so enlightened? I guess love and trust were a package deal, or at least they should be.

"Eric, just tell me. I know I'm not your only source of blood because I choose not to be. I'm not worried about other stuff with you and your _meals_, I understand. Please, just go on."

He reached over to hold my hand and finally continued. "Tonight, I was feeding. As I held the girl I felt myself slip into her mind. It was a little like how you've described your telepathy. But I was experiencing one of her memories, an event that happened when she was a child. I could hear, smell, and see her memory. I read the thoughts she had as it happened. Her mother…she was in the car with her mother during an accident. When I let her go the images stopped. But then I felt a pull towards you, an almost overpowering need to see you."

The three of us were quiet for a second. I'm sure Claudine's thoughts were on my experiences with Eric and Bubba, 'cause mine sure were. Crap. Guess I was gonna have to come clean. My mind cycled back to the pairing of love and trust, and I realized I was getting my comeuppance. In my defense though, my understanding about my true feelings for Eric was still pretty new. I'd like to believe in time, after realizing I loved him, I would have shared everything. It was all just happening too fast.

I was overwhelmed. My confident, swaggering Eric was looking at me with uncertainty in his eyes. A fairy and a vampire, and I was the one with answers. That's me, Sookie Stackhouse, waitress and keeper of mystical secrets.

I reached down to hold both his hands, we'd anchor each other through this, and laid it on him. "Eric, we're a mated pair. You're gonna transcend too."


	10. Chapter 10

So maybe I was up for angelhood, but some devilish part of me momentarily delighted in the look of unadulterated shock on Eric's face. I wasn't proud of it but was truthful enough to admit to it. These last few months I had quite a few surprises dealt out from the supe community, and sometimes I felt like a blindfolded pawn. There were all of these unwritten rules in place governing the supernatural world, and though I tried to play by them nobody ever completely spelled them out to me. It started when the first man I loved left me for another woman, because "He could not disobey his maker's call." Even now it seems to me that's a pretty flippin' important byline that oughta be explained to a human entering into a romantic relationship with a vamp. Bill had kept his fair share of secrets, but then again so had Eric. Both men had manipulated me at one point or another over the course of our relationships. Sure, I felt compassion for Eric's current position. I loved him and when you love somebody their well being, physical-emotional and otherwise is paramount. But yeah… I gleaned some satisfaction at doling out a whopper, at being at the other end of the knowledge power base.

A bit ashamed at the path my thoughts had taken, I consciously refocused on Eric and readied myself to provide further explanations... but he was moving, at vampiric speed faster than my eyes could track. I perceived a blur of motion and felt a powerful force at each shoulder, then I was flying across the room to slam into the wall.

No breath. I tried but couldn't draw in air.

I lie crumpled, half propped up where wall met floor.

My traitorous lungs were still in shock, but my eyes were fine. And a horrifying vision unfurled before me.

Claudine, my dear friend and protector, was positioned in a battle lunge—her rapier thrust out where I'd been sitting only moments before, now impaled low in Eric's shoulder.

He'd taken the blade in my place. And Claudine was no longer Claudine.

Finally I gasped in a few draughts of air and attempted to pull myself up. Claudine had withdrawn the sword, and now stood in a readied pose, the blade arched above her head much like a scorpion's stinger.

Eric was also standing, weaponless, but balanced on the balls of his feet, arms positioned defensively.

Claudine, or perhaps better to say the creature inhabiting Claudine, kept its gaze on Eric. But it addressed me.

"Sedu, how woefully uninformed you all are. Your mate may have saved you just now, but when I slice his head from his neck it will be for naught." It was beyond wrong to hear the taunting, hateful words delivered in that much loved musical voice. The contrast made me feel physically sick, and I fought down a wave of nausea.

Pulling myself to my feet, I felt a surge of energy building within me right along with the outrage that such a creature would dare to violate my friend, dare to stab my love.

I was only vaguely aware that yet another person had entered my bedroom; my focus was on the electrical convergence happening inside me, the fine hairs on my arms and on the back of my neck sparked with static. It reached a crescendo, and I held my palm out, directed towards Claudine. I pushed the energy at her, and now she was the one slamming into a wall.

The impact knocked her unconscious, and a fine trickle of blood left her battered lip and wound down her chin.

My focus had been solely on her. I knew another was in the room, but trusted Eric to deal with any new threats. Turns out it would be the other way around.

My gaze left Claudine's crumpled form and found Eric. Now it was Eric who was taken over…but not by some ancient Evil, but by blood lust. He was fixated on Claudine's bloody mouth, and I knew the scent of fairy was heavy in the room. Gone was my love, and in his place was a feral beast, more like a lion than a man.

After that moment of predator-like stillness, he lunged, snarling… and was intercepted by the figure I'd noticed out of the corner of my eye.

He was the most beautiful being I'd ever seen. My eyes could follow his movements, barely. So not as fast as a vamp, but definitely not human. He was dressed in a floor length white robe and his pale skin caught the moonlight, causing him to stand out against the shadows of the room. He had long, fair hair that twirled around him as he moved. It brought to mind ribbon dancers I'd once watched on ESPN. Though not as quick as Eric, somehow he managed to position himself in front of Claudine. My eyes had been on him the whole time, so I don't know how he managed it. I felt a spike a fear at the thought that he could have some other magic I knew nothing about.

He reached behind him and touched Claudine, then she popped out of existence. What the hell! As soon as she was gone, and just a moment before he would have slammed into the man, Eric seemed to emerge from his state. With Claudine's blood gone, he quickly regained control.

Eric still reminded me of a lion, he actually shook his head the way I've seen big cats do with their manes on TV.

Eric looked back at me, seeming to check that I was alright, and then went on to completely floor me. He tilted his head down, respectfully, to the beautiful man and the man returned the gesture.

"Eric Northman, it has been many years. I never imagined that the next time we'd see each other you'd be such a threat to my line. One granddaughter stolen from me, mated to her for eternity, the other you're trying to turn into a meal. Forgive me if I'm not in the best of moods, we Fey are not the most fertile race and I can promise you I take my family's safety seriously." It was said in a light tone, considering the intensity of the situation moments before, but the velvet words held razor sharp steel beneath.

Perhaps it should have surprised me more, but I'd already known I carried fairy blood. I knew what he said also implied a relationship between Claudine and me, but my brain was otherwise engaged. So this man was an ancestor, interesting, but honestly at that moment I was more concerned for Eric's well being. Eric is not deferential by nature, so this Fey must be a force to be reckoned with. I felt a now familiar energy building. I would defend Eric against any threat, be it someone of my blood or not.

The man seemed to sense my mindset, because he turned to me with a far warmer expression than he'd graced Eric with.

Now he made a slight bow to me. "Please, forgive me. My name is Niall Brigant. I am Fey royalty. And I am your great-grandfather." Nothing like a few simply uttered sentences to make you rethink your entire heritage. "Also, I have no intentions to harm either of you. I'm here because I sensed Claudine was in grave danger. Her very essence was compromised by that creature you blasted out of her. I've always known you were special Sookie, but I never fully realized to what extent."

He might have went on, but I interrupted him. "Claudine, she's alright?"

"Yes, you made sure of that. The demon is gone from her. She'll be sore and may need time to heal, but she will make a full recovery. I've sent her back to our realm, she'll return when she's ready. Now granddaughter, are you ready for some of the answers you seek and to share the knowledge you already have with your mate?"

When in doubt, no matter the situation, magical beings or otherwise, fall back on your upbringing. "Alright Niall, yes. But lets head downstairs to the kitchen. Eric needs a bottle of True Blood. Can I get you a glass of iced tea?"

A smile on his gorgeous face, he replied "Yes please, but no lemon."

**A/N**

**~ I said this was set before ****Dead and Gone****, apparently before Sookie met Niall. Allow me some literary license ;-)**

**~ I do solemnly swear not to kill off Claudine…it was a sad day for me in canon when that happened. **


	11. Chapter 11

Surreal had been a word of the day quite a while back, but it had resonated in harmony with the song of truth in my soul, so its definition remained clearly etched in my mind. **Surreal: marked by the intense irrational reality of a dream.** Sometimes it's very nice, just flat out satisfying, to have exactly the right adjective to describe a moment. Putting a label on something at least gives an illusion of organization, and organization means control. Of course none of us, supes down to ordinary humans, really have true command over our lives. But the illusion is comforting.

Sitting with Eric and Niall at my Gran's worn kitchen table, the only piece of furniture to survive the fire months back, felt like a dream. Eric had healed, but his shirtfront was stained with blood. He'd downed one True Blood and had started a second, outwardly he projected a quiet calm but our connection revealed his impatience. My great-grandad was tranquilly sipping his first glass of iced tea, looking for all the world like an extra from a Lord of the Rings film. He hadn't said another word since we'd sat down. Hostess I might be, but there are times when an awkward silence is better than awkward chatter. He'd get to it when he was ready. I consciously held back a sigh before it escaped but realized my nerves were still showing as my fingers traced along a groove in the wood of the table.

Back and forth, back and forth; excavating small bits of black grunge that were getting imbedded under my thumbnail. Gran used to slice watermelons on this table, big pink triangles Jason and I would carry out to the back porch where we'd proceed to have seed spittin' contests, juice trickling down out chins. So he could pee farther than me as he liked to brag, wasn't my fault his plumbing gave him an advantage, but I could sure out spit him. Gran would lay out a tablecloth to cover the scarred surface if we were having company over for dinner, but otherwise it remained what it was, just another part of a humble comfortable home. I wondered what she'd make of this situation, me sitting here with a vampire and a fairy, trying to understand my own mystical destiny. She'd want me to approach it with strength, to not let anxiety get the best of me. I flattened my palm on the wood and sat up a little straighter.

Finally His Majesty began. He sat down his weeping glass, his movement fluid and graceful. I wasn't feeling a whole lot of good will toward him at this point. Where had he been the first twenty-five years of my life if he was family and thought I was special? But he was captivating, in a way that went beyond physical beauty. It was a lot like the strange pull Jason seemed to have over the entire female population of Bon Temps, but times a hundred. Was this the Fey glamour I'd read about when I'd been on that fantasy genre kick? And why wasn't his scent setting off Eric?

"Granddaughter…no, you're not comfortable with that yet. Sookie, I know you have many many questions. I'm full-blooded Fey, so like Claudine I can and have been reading your thoughts. I'd like to apologize for that now."

This threw me for a loop. "Why apologize? You're just doing what it is you do."

A slight smile from him. "You're very forgiving. Trespassing into another's mind without permission is nearly inexcusable among us, almost a crime. We have no qualms with reading humans at our discretion, but between two Fey there is a protocol. You're of my line, my descent, and you are more than human. Claudine and I have done you a dishonor by delving into your thoughts unwelcomed. I apologize."

Now it was my turn to smile. "I accept, and please, with the situation being what it is feel free to keep reading my thoughts if it will help. I guess it's fair after all of the brains I've been in. How do ya'll know if someone is breaking protocol, couldn't you read someone without them knowing it?"

"No, we're able to sense an intruder. We know if we're not alone in our minds." This made sense, I remembered meeting Barry in Dallas. It was the first time I'd encountered another telepath, and we'd done some experimenting. There had been a niggling feeling when he'd pulled thoughts from my mind. Huh, interesting. Beside me Eric's impatience was increasing, not a steady flow but hitting me in waves. Right, back on track.

Now that he'd mentioned it, I felt him in my mind, a slight insistent pressure. What I was picking up from Eric he was picking up from me. "Yes, we need to get to the matter at hand. To return to one of your earlier concerns, Eric won't lose control because I have the ability to mask my essence. We are all safe to continue."

I took a breath and dove in, "Okay Niall. Tell me about the demon that can take over people, tell me why he got Claudine since she said it can only get to those who are open or vulnerable or whatever." My words were coming quickly, but I needed to get it all out. "Tell me why he calls me Sedu, tell me about angels, about transcending."

At this point Eric interjected, "Yes, and explain to us what it means to be a mated-pair." He said it to Niall but he was looking at me. Hm, well, I guess I knew something about that as my mind flashed back to my dream.

"Well, I can't say with certainty what allowed the demon to possess Claudine. But a possible scenario involves her desire to ascend. She could have been overcome by jealousy, a very debilitating emotion that can leave someone open to outside invasion." My mind went back to the moment she was taken over, I'd just awoken from my dream, or maybe it had been a vision. I'd been smug in my new knowledge, and I realized now elated that I wouldn't have to leave Eric after all. Perhaps it had been enough to trigger something in Claudine, something that opened a door to that creature.

Niall continued, "Earlier, you were thinking about labels, giving names to things. The demon calls you Sedu because that is his point of reference for what you are becoming. Claudine talks of angels, it's her understanding of what these warriors or protectors are. She is a few hundred years younger than your mate, and has lived in this human realm much of her life. She has been influenced by the Christian religion here, so angel is the label that she knows. The demon, he is far more ancient. He can be traced back to millennia ago, older than your mate or even his maker, to river valleys of long ago. Humankind was just starting to pull together into larger groups, starting to settle and plant and build. Just beginning to write things down for the first time. They called the protectors Sedu, and built what they believed them to look like at entranceways of palaces, warriors to protect royalty. Sedu was their label."

I recalled the palace from my vision, I remembered the wind on my face as I took flight to defend an enslaved people. "No, the Sedu or the protectors weren't there for royalty, at least not only for royalty."

Niall nodded. "Yes, that's right, but that's what the people of that time thought. Just like people of this time imagine halos and chubby babies. Your dream, it's a normal part of ascension. Others before you have experienced it. Humans have identified it as ancestoral memory, think of it as an intuition…a guiding sense…to help you adjust."

Now he turned from me and looked at Eric. "In ancient times people were perhaps closer to the true essence of the protectors, because they always depicted them in pairs. Two sides of a door to guard, two warriors fighting and defending each other. The concept seems to have faded over time. You, Eric Northman, will change along with my granddaughter. Your destinies are intertwined now."

Our connection sent me Eric's torrent of emotions: worry, fear…and gladness? Relief? He and I had much to discuss.

Through Niall's explanations Eric had remained outwardly stoic, absorbing. I was proud of his strength, proud that he didn't allow his emotions to rule his actions. But my appreciation of him rose to new heights when I felt him gather his courage to ask my great-grandfather, "What of God?"

Niall simply said, "Yes."

Anger now. "Yes? Just yes? What does that mean?"

Niall remained silent and Eric continued, "Claudine said Sookie earned her way partly into becoming an angel, that it had to do with the way she's lived. I've lived for ten centuries as a vampire. I've killed, I've tortured…I'll continue to do so when necessary. I am not a candidate for angelhood. I am selfish and self-serving. There are no gods, there is no heaven. There is now, this moment and the enjoyment that can be torn from it." He said it with conviction, but he didn't feel it with conviction. My mind went back to the relief he'd experienced moments before, he very much liked the idea of our futures being woven together. And maybe he liked the idea of a higher power, a higher purpose.

Niall turned away from Eric's gaze and met mine. "Protectors only emerge when they are needed. Once they complete their initial mission, they move on to others. But there is always a catalyst that brings about their change. Claudine wasn't familiar with the concept of a mated pair because during her lifetime there has never been a successful ascension of both mates. One or both have been assassinated."

Silence for a bit while we all thought about that. Then I asked, "When was the last time protectors were needed?"

"The autumn of 1939. But in that case both were killed before they'd completed their mission."


	12. Chapter 12

Niall had left a bit ago, saying he'd send reinforcements to guard the parameter of my property. Eric had countered by arguing we'd be safer with just him and me than being surrounded by bodies that could possibly be possessed. I would be able to sense any approaching being, even if I couldn't read Supe minds, and Niall had assured us we were far enough into our transcension that neither of us could be taken over. Cold comfort, but it was something.

Now here we sat, and I realized how few moments like this we'd shared over the course of our tumultuous relationship. In the past we'd been brought together by supernatural emergencies, and I suppose this instance was no different. But in those other situations our time together had been marked by action, by urgent doings and usually surrounded by a passel of other people. When we had been alone we'd been engaged in the physical, which I'm not gonna lie, was always pretty dang great…but it didn't allow me to know Eric the way many wives or girlfriends know their men. A big part of being in a relationship is the collection of quiet moments; it's the small intimacies outside of sex that really make two people a couple. I'd never watched Eric choose his clothes for the evening for example, and I don't think I'd ever sat down with him on my couch, just the two of us and the soft shadows of the room. Those three days we shared when Eric had lost his memory were the closest we'd come, and though they'd allowed us to build a foundation, his amnesia had still been a barrier to full disclosure.

But we had this moment.

I reached over and gently clasped his hand. It seemed his mind was following a similar path to my own meanderings.

"Lover, remember the night you found me wandering your road?"

A smile from me. "Yes."

"That night you let me sleep by you, let me hold your hand. I wasn't myself, I was a danger. I could have killed you. But you kept me safe, and beyond that you offered me comfort."

"Eric, even without your memories you were still you, you as you would be without the roles and experiences you've taken on over the years. Being in people's thoughts all my life, you realize memories are a big part of who we are, but they're not all. On a very essential level, you're good. That night I was just some strange woman to you, but you were still concerned about my safety…being out at night and all, remember? And that was while you were scared and confused and needing blood."

"My lover, I think you're trying to form me into one of the men in your romance novels. That night I didn't kill you because you were more beneficial to me alive, you had answers I needed. If you truly had been a stranger, and didn't immediately recognize me, I'm sure I would have drained you on the spot."

"Liar."

"No, it is the truth. Well, partial truth. My normal course of action was also halted by a sense of connection with you, maybe because of our blood bond, maybe because of all of this now, this being mated."

Now it was my turn to throw out some maybes. "Or maybe our blood bond is just another part of us being mates, all of this had been destiny and it's intertwined."

"Destiny." He repeated the word and I could sense his incredulity. But I remembered his reactions earlier, with Niall.

"Eric, I know that this is all easier for me to swallow than it is for you. I believe in God, I believe in a plan for us all, that nothing happens by chance or just because. I believe things matter, that people matter and that when we die we continue our existence somewhere else. I know you don't believe those things. So why did you feel good when Niall brought up destiny, why did you feel relief?"

A gentle squeeze of fingers. "Some would say it's a coward's path to believe in a heaven or in any gods. That it's a way for people to deal with the daily reality of death. So much easier to concoct a fairy tale, and every culture has spun their own version of the same story."

I squeezed back and replied, "Yes, and some would say faith is the hardest road of all. To think that we die and that's it. Oblivion is easy, consequences aren't."

"Sookie, I can't undo centuries of thoughts and impressions in a single night. But I'll man up, as your brother would say. I would like to have the same assurances that you do."

Silence for a while. I knew what the admission had cost him, and was once again filled with pride for his courage. Food for thought for the both of us.

I was too wound up for sleep. I wasn't particularly hungry…and besides the fine art of middle of the night fridge rummaging would be lost on Eric. And for perhaps the first time in memory I was in my Viking's presence without feeling frisky. There must be a pending apocalypse.

Okay, not funny. But the tension had been too high these last forty-eight hours, people can't keep going all strung out like that for such lengthy periods of time. Right now we were together and safe. I decided to take a page from Eric's book and pull whatever joy I could from the moment, just live in the present.

"I want to braid your hair." During the days I'd sheltered Eric I'd discovered I had something of a fetish for those long pale waves. Surprising, because my own similar locks were a nuisance I often just pulled back into a ponytail.

My vamp was obliging, and pushing aside the coffee table settled on my sun bleached rug between my knees. He was tall enough that his head still nearly reached the level of mine, but it would do.

I started by using my fingers as a brush, just running them from top to bottom through the long strands. There were a couple of snarls but nothing serious. His hair wasn't silky, but thick and course. The result of a human life a millennium ago sans shampoo, conditioner, and optimal nutrition. I still loved it, because it was part of him.

He took in a draught of unnecessary air and then gave a sigh of contentment. His thumbs were massaging gentle circles on my ankles and I let out my own happy sound.

"Lover, your bouquet is the best in the world. You scent haunts me when I awaken from my day sleep."

Leaning down to bury my nose in his scalp, both arms reaching over to wrap around his neck, I replied "You're not so bad yourself." I adored his smell, a combination of sandalwood and the sweet smell of vampire akin to wine.

We hugged for a bit, one of those long comfortable embraces that just make everything seem all better. Then I sat up and started an intricate braid.

Through my front windows the earliest traces of dawn were emerging. I knew we were gonna be okay.


	13. Chapter 13

I'd gotten Eric tucked into the hidey-hole in my guestroom, and after getting some coffee going I settled on the porch to watch the sunrise. This morning the sky was lit up with subtle shades, nothing brilliant but it suited my mood. Mellow.

Hearing the final perks of the machine I headed back in. The screen door slammed behind me just as I reached the cabinet to rummage for a mug. Finding my favorite, gray with a black and white image of Albert Einstein sticking out his tongue, I filled it with black heaven and stepped back out on the porch. Sometimes I amused myself by imagining jumping into the minds of famous people throughout history. I figured being in Albert's brain would be a lot like trying to read a book in a foreign language; jumbled but fun, maybe something familiar here and there, yet overall just beyond me. And that would be if he was thinking in English.

Across my lawn I watched my great-grandfather approach. I'd sensed him a few minutes ago, and though I still couldn't read his mind his imprint so to speak was now familiar. I couldn't help but grin as I took in the incongruous sight of his waist length pale hair reflecting early light, voluminous white robe, and the shiny blackberry he held clasped between his hands…head down, both thumbs busily texting. Hope he didn't trip over my lawn chair.

Last night before leaving he'd assured me he would be back. He didn't like how vulnerable I'd be with Eric down for the day. I was a little annoyed by his high handedness, but given the situation, even with my new ass kicking abilities, I was glad for the support. Plus I enjoyed the idea of us being family; heaven knows it was a precious commodity in my life.

He reached the base of my porch, looking up. But his greeting stopped in his throat, his gaze fixed behind me. Baffled, I quickly turned…my body preparing itself for a fight without me realizing it, coffee cup tumbling towards the floor…to be caught by a well known hand; long fingers, light dusting of blonde hair, jagged white scar where he'd been caught by a fishing hook as a boy. My eyes moved from hand to arm to face. For the second time in our relationship my gaze met Eric's in the sunlight.

That first time had been hell. His skin turning red, blistering and smoldering as he screamed in pain. We'd been at a vampire summit in Rhodes. Extremists had blown up our hotel. Eric and I with Pam in tow had barely escaped with our lives, and once we'd been out of the building he'd continued to battle the day's rays to protect unconscious Pam.

Now his eyes found mine, an expression of sheer ecstasy breaking across his face. He lifted from kneeling and scooped me up, hugging me to his chest. I felt rumbles and then heard deep gutty laughs, his whole body vibrating with joy. He twirled us around a few times, his guffaws and my giggles intermeshing.

Finally he stopped and sat me down, but still held me close. I reached up trembling fingers to rub away the collection of crimson tears from each eye. We'd shared tears of pain and loss, of humor to my chagrin, and now utter happiness. They all seemed to be ingredients in the alchemy of our souls combining, not because we were fated warriors, just the gentle but steady process any couple goes through as they face life together.

We must've been a sight, but Niall appeared to have recovered from his shock, and calmly climbed the steps. He left us be and took a seat at my old wicker rocker.

I had so many questions, but I was just plum happy, standing there with my man in the morning light.

I felt a power fill me. So hard to describe; it wasn't of me, not from within. I sensed a presence, something pure and good and right. I was brimming with it and it seemed to overflow into Eric.

Then a whisper, not in my ear but straight to my heart. And it was the best sound I'd ever heard. Now I was the one with tears streaming down my face, but they barely registered.

Bliss.

There was a relief like no other, like something I'd been waiting for for always had arrived.

Whisper.

"_Children"_

"_Children, now."_

And then it was gone.

The feeling of loss, of separation, was intense and acute. It physically hurt. But it was mixed in with a strange sort peace, a knowing…

The piercing ring of my telephone was jolting, a lot like the way sounds can be when you're really sleepy but haven't dozed off yet.

I felt like I was emerging from a dream as I went inside to answer it.

Propping myself on Gran's old stool, not really trusting my jelly-knees, I shakily picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Sookie, oh Sookie, thank God."

"Bill?" There was a time, not so long ago really, that hearing that deep Southern drawl would have curled my insides. But no more. He'd hurt me bad. I didn't hate him anymore, and we weren't exactly not friends…ah hell, it was complicated. But I sure was surprised to be gettin' a phone call from him, he'd been in Peru for months.

"Sookie, listen to me. Do you know what's happening?"

A whole hell of a lot, he was gonna have to be more specific. "Bill, what are you talkin' about?"

"Sookie, are you sick? Is there anyone with you?"

"Bill, I'm fine. Physically anyhow, there's been a lot of Supe stuff going on around here. Eric's with me, well and someone else too."

"So you feel fine? No fever, no blisters on your body? No vomiting?"

"Ew, yuck, no. Bill, what's this about?"

"Alright Sookie, turn on the TV. No…wait, first I want you to get a white sheet and put it over a front window. Then I want you to lock your door."

"Bill, I…"

"Sookie, just do it please! Now!"

Our phone wasn't cordless, so I plopped it down on the counter, calling Eric and Niall in. I asked Eric to take care of the sheet, and he did at vampiric speed. Niall confirmed our parameters were clear of intruders. I asked him why he hadn't seen any news of a disaster on his fancy phone, and he confessed its reception was tuned into his realm.

The men went into the living room, I stayed in the kitchen and picked up the phone.

"Alright Bill, we're good. Now just tell me, what's wrong?"

"There's been an outbreak, a sickness there in Louisiana. The story broke this morning. Sookie, it's the worst scientists have seen. It started down at the port, it came off of one of those big cargo ships. The whole crew's already dead, but not before they infected others." A pause here, "They can't stop it."

Trickles of dread up my spine, from the other room I could hear a reporter state the death toll was already in the hundreds.

"Bill, I don't understand. People don't get sick and die this fast…"

"They think it was engineered, that it's biological warfare. Sookie, if you can, you need to stay away from people. Supes are okay, we're immune, but you're human enough that you shouldn't take any chances. Eric's there?"

"Yes."

"Alright, well maybe he should fly you somewhere, somewhere more isolated…I don't know. They think it's airborne. Sookie, I need to tell you something, there's a good chance it's not the best time but I'm just so tired of regrets."

I knew I should probably inform Bill of my angel status, I was pretty sure I was immune considering my super-healing and other developing abilities, but he sounded so intense.

"Okay, go ahead."

"Sookie Stackhouse, I love you and I'm sorry to the bottom of my dead heart that I didn't do better by you. It might not mean much, but it's all true. Know that when I heard that horrible news report this morning my first thought was for your safety. You safe and alive is what I want, even if it means you being with Eric."

It had been such an emotional time, these last two days. Then that incredible moment on the porch followed by this catastrophe. Too much, just too much. But I wanted to let go of my anger at Bill, I wanted to move on. I was a bit choked up when I replied.

"Bill, thank you. It's mighty nice hearin' you say that, it means a lot to me. I don't want you to worry, I'll be careful." What else? It wasn't enough. "You're a good friend, a real good friend."

"I'm just sorry that you couldn't say that sooner. Just please be careful." A click and he was gone. I knew it had taken him a lot to call, to say those things.

While part of my was girding up to face this new challenge, another part of my burden lightened as I let go of old resentments. Not forgotten, but forgiven.

**~ Sends a wink across cyberspace to Demeter….there's your honorable Bill, even if it did about kill me ;-)**

**~ Nods head at fabulous Dustin Hoffman sci-fi thriller**

**~ Played with the SVM timeline, Bill wouldn't have been in Peru at this point. This isn't an apology, just seemed right to acknowledge it though.**

**~ Been a while since I said it, all belongs to the incredible Mrs. Harris. **


	14. Chapter 14

Turns out the white sheet Bill had us hang outside was an indicator that at least one person in the household had fallen ill with the virus sweeping through my state. I thought at first I'd misunderstood as I listened to mask covered news broadcasters share FEMA containment procedures. Why would he have us hang it up, knowing nobody was sick?

Devious, devious Bill. He'd stated plainly that his first concern was for my safety. He probably figured that the white sheet would keep others out, and the less interaction with people the better the odds were of not getting infected. Even as I marveled at his duplicity, part of me was humbled by his obvious concern. He really did love me. I guess I still loved him too, not in the romantic sense, that had passed… but we'd always have our shared history. So while pulling down the sheet from the window, lest suit-encased workers descend upon us and waste valuable resources that could go elsewhere, I sent warm wishes down to South America. May he someday find a bit of comfort.

I remained standing in the morning light for a moment, sheet gripped in my hands. There was a catharsis in letting go of my long held grudge, a freedom.

Eric approached me from behind, sensing my emotions, and started to rub my shoulders. I leaned back into the strength of his body, grateful for his support physical and otherwise. Through the cotton fabric of my shirt I detected a difference in Eric's touch…he was warm.

Smiling, turning my body around while staying in his embrace, I looked up into those baby blues. I hadn't noticed earlier, but the sunlight brought out new depths of color in his eyes. I had a slight addiction to the travel channel, so though I'd never been there I could say with some amount of certainty his gaze matched the Mediterranean waters surrounding Crete. Achingly beautiful. But that notion spawned a less welcome line of thought. Like Sedu, the Minotaur had been another mythological creature half man and half bull as well as a guardian of sorts. He'd lived in a great labyrinth in Crete. His eventual fate had been glum, but then again he'd been a devourer of innocents. Just deserts and all that.

Eric and I were now creatures of myth, but holding his big warm hands in mine he felt solidly real. And the need for our presence, for our ascension was very much a reality. We'd been called to help with this outbreak, somehow in some way. Seems like Sedu are on a need to know basis.

Niall had turned off the television, reporters were cycling through the same information, panic only thinly veiled. They shared safety precautions and talked about containment zones, that nobody should cross the temporary barriers the military had established. So far we were _lucky_ in that it was still limited to Louisiana. Thinking back to Katrina, Lord knew the heartache my state had endured, seemed destined to further endure now. They also explained what to do for those who'd already fallen ill…not a whole hell of a lot of use at this point as people were dying within hours of contracting it. It didn't matter how many times my television repeated that news, I still couldn't fully grasp it.

My mind might have been struggling with the thought of so many sick and dying, but my new guiding intuition was pulling at me, telling me to depart. Apparently Eric was feeling the same thing. We were needed.

I glanced at Niall, expecting some nod of acceptance, maybe a few words of assurance. Instead he seemed puzzled, and…dare I say of such an ancient regal entity, afraid? He confessed he could no longer read my mind. What's more, I was picking up Eric's thoughts along with his emotions now, and he silently communicated it was the same for him. I thought back to earlier, right before Bill had called. A certainty that we'd been blessed by the very sound of God's voice for those euphoric seconds filled me. It was time to do our job.

Eric and Niall exchanged a formal greeting, doing their head bobbing thing again. At least they had protocol to fall back on. Standing before my great-grandfather I have to admit to not feeling much. He was family in name but not yet in truth, and now it didn't look like we'd have the opportunity to change that. I was grateful for his assistance these last few hours, and though for most of my life my ability had seemed like more of a hindrance than anything else, I realized what a blessing it was too and that his blood was responsible.

On impulse I stood up on tiptoes and planted a kiss on his nearly glowing cheek. He seemed startled, and I passingly wondered what sort of Fey taboo I'd broken. Eric communicated that it was a pretty big social gaffe, but Niall recovered and reciprocated the gesture. Then he popped out of existence, at least in this realm.

Eric and I shared a smile, well Eric smirked and I smiled, and then together we submitted to the persistent and increasing pull. I didn't think to grab my purse from the hall closet. Eric hadn't had a True Blood yet today. My car keys stayed on my little catchall table. I did spare a fleeting thought that perhaps I should leave Jason a note, an explanation or at least a goodbye. But there wasn't time, and maybe that was for the best.

We stepped out on my front porch, the worn wood protesting under our combined weight. It was a familiar homey sound, and I knew it would be the last time I'd hear it. Looking down at our joined hands, I was unsurprised to see them take on a translucent quality. I knew the effect was spreading throughout our bodies and we would be invisible to humans and probably most supes as well. Then we took to the air.

Though flying had long been routine for Eric, I could feel his joy that I was accompanying him. Wind currents rippled through my hair and loose t-shirt. I'd donned jeans this morning, but was still wearing my pink breast cancer awareness shirt that usually served as my pajamas. I wasn't sure how this angel gig worked wardrobe wise and all, but it seemed a guardian could do worse than spend eternity in a shirt that read "Courage" across the front. Heaven knew we'd need it, especially as I felt heartache and despair roiling within somebody in waves as we neared our destination.

We touched down at a decrepit trailer settled deep in the backwoods of Renard Parish. The siding skirting it was pulling away from the rusty frame, and the yard was unkempt and overgrown. A one-eyed dog that looked to be part Labrador lifted his head, sniffed the air, and settled back down. He was an old fellow, I could see strands of gray in his brown coat. Interesting that he could almost sense us.

Inside was heartbreak.

Eric and I were operating on a strange sort of autopilot. We were going through motions that were simultaneously familiar and novel. The pull guided us through the trailer walls. Eric had actually taken the lead, yet I still felt his surprise as he entered someone's abode without explicit invitation for the first time in a thousand years. Personally I was more shocked that we'd just traveled through solid matter.

Indoors, the lighting was dim. A single bulb filled a shadeless lamp. All of the windows were covered by thick dusty curtains, effectively keeping sunlight at bay…though a single ray shot down from a hole in the ceiling. Somewhere along the line a wood stove had been installed in the living room, and a large circular hole had been cut out of the roof to allow for an aluminum stovepipe. But it had been a shoddy job, and the hole was bigger than the pipe. There were streaks of rust running down the metal as well, and my mind briefly skittered to thoughts of weakened metal and fire hazard.

The living room/kitchen area was vacant, but we sensed our mission lay just down the narrow hallway in the backroom.

Finally, we found him. He was a child, just a little boy perhaps nine years old. Mop of curly blond hair and nearly catatonic big brown eyes. He lay on a twin mattress sat directly on the floor, no frame. He was curled up on himself, a little ball of hurt. Wearing ripped grass stained jeans and a filthy t-shirt, even across the room I could see the dirt embedded under his nails as he gripped his mother's cold stiff hand.

His pain was tangible and piercing me, and though I wasn't exactly corporeal, the best way to describe it was a physical ache low in my gut. Lord, he needed some relief.

His name was Austin, named after his daddy's hometown. When his momma was particularly drunk she liked to tell him he could just as well be a Phoenix or a Dallas since she didn't know for sure exactly which SOB had knocked her up. That jibe became particularly hateful as he got older and started to understand it.

Ironically enough, her name was Grace. To supplement the food stamps and small welfare check she received each month, she drove her old truck to Shreveport every few weeks to turn tricks. He knew what that was because she'd talk about the men, seemed to enjoy sharing the humiliations she'd endured so he could have that bowl of Fruit Loops. She'd be gone for several days at a time, but he would still get himself up, cleanup as best he could and walk the two miles to catch the bus for school. The other kids made fun of him, laughed at his holey shoes and dirty clothes. They said he smelled. Some of the teachers would pretend not to hear, seemed to think the same things in fact. But other teachers were different, and wouldn't put up with any of that. So school was at least a safe place sometimes. It was real nice to get a free school breakfast and lunch too. He tried not to scarf it down too fast while children at nearby tables complained about the "cafeteria food".

A few times some of the adults on campus had tried to talk to him about his "home situation", but his momma had trained him in what to say. He hated her, but loved her too, and compelled by the strange loyalty of family he always denied anything bad. Child Protective Services had made one home visit, but Grace had been there at the time. The officials had seen a rundown home, but not the worst they'd been in by far. The parent was present and sober, and there was food in the shelf. He'd had no bruises, for they couldn't see the ones on his soul. Grace was deemed an adequate provider, and state funding was low, so despite continued teacher reports a second inspection never came.

She'd contracted the virus from one of her johns, he'd got it from a buddy who'd traveled up from New Orleans. She'd driven home from Shreveport, already feeling poorly but still functioning. Austin had cared for her these last hours as she tossed on the dirty sheets, burning with fever. He kept cool towels on her and talked to her, trying to soothe her through her delirium. Then she'd died.

And he was relieved.

What kind of a person did that make him, that he felt glad when his own momma died? It was then that he'd laid down by her, his little boy hand clasping hers.

He was about to sink into an abyss that he'd never quite come out of, a darkness would take him and shape the man he'd become.

All of this knowledge passed through Eric and me. And it took everything in me not to sink to the floor in despair. Why send a pestilence when this child had already gone through so many trials? In the deepest part of my heart I always believed we are all only given what we can handle. Life is a test. But no, this was just too much, too much.

A certainty clicked into place, it was all beyond what he could endure and that's why we were here. Eric and I laid our hands on the boy- on his cheek, his forehead, his shoulders. We pushed pure goodness into him; a combination of whatever ineffable ingredients make up love and comfort and peace. The energy wasn't from us, but we were its conveyers. And he returned from the ledge, his soul still intact.

For a moment the myst parted, and we saw a glimpse of an adult Austin. He wasn't a politician nor a military figure of any kind. He was a humble painter, adorning the sides of buildings with giant murals. And those images would change lives.

We sensed a presence approaching, and then she was close enough to read. With a happy incredulity we discovered it was Austin's school counselor, fed up with the state's ineptitude, out to do her own damn site evaluation. Finally, he would be cared for.

Eric and I both experienced relief followed by an alarming panic. But it was quickly calmed as we were granted knowledge scientists still hadn't discovered. Once a person was deceased the disease was no longer communicable.

Even as she approached the doorway, we felt a pull once again. We were needed elsewhere, another hurting soul. Thinking back to my experiences with Eric and Bubba, a couple of days and forever ago… those flashbacks to utter misery and loss of faith, I knew our role as guardians meant protecting people from the darkness within themselves.

Giving Austin's shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting go, Eric and I shared a look of acceptance. Then we both shot out through the nonexistent barrier of the roof, into the expanse of the Louisiana sky.


	15. Chapter 15

**~Epilogue~**

The striking blonde opened her eyes the moment the fiery ball dropped below the horizon. She was instantly filled with his loss.

Gulping useless air, thick red rivulets pouring from her eyes, she moaned "Master! Maker!" Then, "God, oh God."

A calming peace filled her, though the grief remained.

For the next several centuries she would swear she'd heard a whispered, "Goodbye Pamela." After that she didn't talk about it, as those who had known him grew fewer~ they met their final deaths through various means. Some wearied and chose to meet the sun, others became too ambitious in their political maneuverings. She was secretly comforted that this existence wasn't true immortality. It had always seemed to her there was something else out there.

**~ I would like to send a big ol' "Thank you y'all!" to those who have supported this story. You're angels. I would also like to tip my hat and wink at Ms. Harris. **


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